


A Touch of Grey

by Rioghna



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Future Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:30:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1268188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rioghna/pseuds/Rioghna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Exit Wounds, Ianto tries to help Jack put himself back together, and gets a little help from unexpected quarters.  Can be read as a prequel to Time and Again or not.  Definite prequel to The Fine Line between sex and love but all can be read as stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch of Grey

A Touch of Grey

Ianto wasn’t completely sure what it was that woke him up from the light doze he had fallen into. There were no alerts, the alarm that signaled the opening of the large cog door remained mute. Even the pterodactyl was out for the evening, probably chasing sheep around near Barry. At least whatever it was it hadn’t woken Jack. Usually an incredibly light sleeper, he was finally and irrevocably asleep, the sleep of the just, or at least the sleep of the mentally and physically exhausted. 

Watching his lover, he offered a prayer to a god he was no longer sure he believed in that Jack stayed that way, that they were past the nightmares at least for now. It had taken a week for him to even notice, which said something about the week, and Jack never slept much, a couple of hours a night, maybe six or eight only if they had been running full out for a couple of days…or if he had gotten killed that day. 

There it was again, somewhere between a sound and a vibration. Ianto eased himself up from beside the sleeping man, slipping the pillow against him as he reached out at the loss of warmth. Pressing a soft kiss against Jack’s ear, he grabbed some clothes and slipped out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. While he didn’t want Jack to wake up alone, he wouldn’t risk closing him in. The room they were currently sharing was at the end of a row of storage rooms off the main hub, down from the small cluster of rooms set up for the staff to grab a quick kip on long cases or sleep off some of the more unusual or dangerous aspects of the job. 

Listening carefully as he pulled last night’s trousers over the boxers and tee shirt he had climbed in bed with, he tried to pinpoint what it was that had woken him up and where. Ianto cast a quick glance back in to find that Jack had taken his pillow and curled himself ‘round it. He smiled contentedly at the sight. The first week had been a nightmare of cleaning up, working with the civilian authorities, and covering up. They had all been in shock, and while he and Gwen had worked themselves into exhaustion, eaten when Jack told them to, and been dutifully sent to bed, the older man had pushed his food around, and watched. Gwen would toddle home to Rhys, to do whatever it was other couples did, while Ianto remained.

Jack seemed reluctant to let him go, and he certainly had no desire to go back to his flat alone. So he had picked up fresh clothes and stayed, collapsing into sleep on the couch next to Jack or be sent off for a proper sleep in his lover’s bunker under the office. It was only when Ianto had slipped down into the cubby after him one day that he noticed the haunted look in Jack’s eyes, or thought about the way he had been avoiding the small room. In looking back it was probably then he realized that he had not seen Jack sleep at all. 

He started watching the older man, noticing that while Gwen had been busy helping sort the police and he had been working with city government on the cover (terrorists, the bugaboo of the twenty first century, though why terrorists would want to blow up Cardiff was anyone’s guess), Jack had been taking all the dangerous calls himself, hunting the few Weevils that ventured out and checking out any strange sightings all on his own. Back at the base, he watched them both like hawks, holding Gwen when she looked like she was going to break down again, and always there with a hand on Ianto’s back or a kiss brushed quietly against his forehead to reassure him that they would keep going. The pretense that they were not together had not survived the night of the disaster, not that they had particularly spent any time together in that sense either. 

Almost a week of watching his lover had brought him to the conclusion that Jack was neither sleeping nor eating, surviving as near as he could tell on industrial strength coffee and whatever rest he got snuggling with Ianto on the lumpy old couch in the hub. Worried about the older man and unable to keep it to himself any longer, he decided to confront him after Gwen had left. Jack was evasive, not surprisingly. “You are imagining things, Ianto. You know I don’t need much sleep.”

“I work for Torchwood, I don’t need to imagine things, and I certainly am not imagining this. You haven’t slept for at least a week, and did you think that a man with your appetite could stop eating and not be noticed. You won’t do anyone any good starving yourself, and coffee is not a substitute for food.”

“I don’t suppose you would buy a new get fit scheme?” Jack said, trying for something of his old lightheartedness. Ianto merely looked at him, blue eyes registering his disbelief as well as a deeper concern for the man who had come to mean so much to him. “No,” Jack said with a sigh. “Didn’t think so.” 

“You can’t sleep down there, can you?” Jack followed his gaze to the hatch and repressed a shudder.

“No, I can’t breathe down there. I will get better,” he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.

“For now will you at least eat something?”

“I try, Ianto, really I try, but all I can taste is dirt.” He didn’t need to say anymore. The younger man reached out and pulled him close, saying nothing. There was nothing to say; right now all he could do was be there for him, the way Jack had been for him. There would be time to sort out a plan later. 

Pulling his thoughts back to the present, Ianto retrieved his weapon from the drawer of the desk he had been occupying and tried to figure out what is was that had woken him up. He made his way back down the corridor toward where he left Jack, hopefully sleeping, to figure out what it was that disturbed him. The hallway was empty, the doors to all the storage rooms closed and locked as they always were save the one he had converted into a temporary (possibly) bedroom. 

It had taken a couple days for Ianto to sort out his plan. He thought of simply asking Jack to come round to his, but knew that his lover was still not sufficiently comfortable to leave the hub unmanned, even long enough for him to get some sleep. He wasn’t sure that he was comfortable enough that the city wouldn’t fall into peril without them and besides, his flat was hardly large and the double bedroom was not much bigger than Jack’s cubby. That meant finding a place that was big enough to set up housekeeping more or less, and then managing to get everything put together. It hadn’t taken him long to consult his charts and find a large storage room that had few enough things in to make it practical. Getting Jack to eat, that was another thing.

The corridor was just as empty and Jack was still asleep, face buried in Ianto’s pillow, sheet and duvet down around his waist. Ianto looked in at him and wondered if he wasn’t just imagining things. Perhaps he should just slip back into bed and wrap himself around the furnace that was Jack Harkness. He took one step toward the room, when he heard it again, this time a definite sound that shouldn’t be there. Quickly he turned toward where he was fairly certain the sound had come from, toward the stairs that lead to the lower levels below the autopsy bay. 

After two days of preparation, Ianto had everything planned out. He had explained it to Gwen, some of it at least. That she and Rhys needed some alone time and so did he and Jack. That the older man was having some difficulties, she knew, the nature of those he had no intention of sharing. Jack was a private person at the best of times, and this was not the best of times. 

Once he had hustled Gwen out of the hub, he went to work on the second part of his plan. Ianto grabbed the menu from an Indian restaurant that was a particular favorite of Jack’s, sorted out his order and made a phone call. Bombay Palace was close enough to the hub that they ate there fairly often. A little mom and pop place, Ianto had been surprised the first time he had gone with Jack to find the older man spoke to the owner fluently in one of the Indian dialects. Almost as surprised as he had been by the way he flirted with the old woman who came rushing from the kitchen at the sound of his voice, laughing and chatting, making her giggle like a girl a quarter her age. Looking at the two of them, he could see Jack’s talent highlighted, that unique ability to bring out the beauty of whoever it was he was talking to, to make them feel special and important, even if it was just for a little while. Talking to Jack, he could see the young woman that she had been, the young woman now reflected in the granddaughter next to her shyly watching, and waiting for them to take their seats. 

Now, this was the place he called. Explaining through her son, Ianto had managed to make it clear to the old woman that Jack was feeling unwell, having trouble tasting anything. He left out the why, let her think he had a bad cold or something, as long as the food was strong enough to overwhelm the memories of the taste of dirt in his mind. While he waited, Ianto checked and rechecked his plans. At the moment Jack was still in his office, signing a pile of reports for everyone from the Prime Minster to the director of UNIT in Geneva. Ianto’s plan was simple, boring work and strong food, followed by a safe place to sleep it off to start Jack back. It was all he could do without time travel and Jack had said enough for him to know that even the Doctor could not fix this. 

The food was delivered by another grandson, along with a message from grandmother that she included a few special things to help Jack get better, and he should make sure that he ate everything, to keep up his strength. Ianto smiled and agreed, startled when the young man refused payment, saying only his Gran wanted Jack to get better. He closed the shop and headed down through the door. The smell of hot peppers in the elevator was almost enough to burn his nose and he only hoped that his own milder food had not been contaminated by what was clearly a curry designed to burn out any infection. He had left the choice up to her, only specifying that it be as strong flavored as possible. 

As he entered the cage, he could see Jack exiting his office, brought out by the alarm. “What have you got there?” he called down. 

“Come here and find out,” Ianto replied, taking the bag with him through the room and down the corridor. Jack’s curiosity would do the rest. Two minutes later as he was still setting up dinner on the tray, Jack Harkness popped his head around through the doorframe and stopped. 

The large store room had been emptied of all but two crates, too big to be moved. Ianto had thrown a sheet over one to use as a table, and left the other against the wall with a small mirror and Jack’s straight razor and a basin on it. The bed was made up of two metal bed frames he had put together, though the mattresses and linens he had bought. What was kept in the hub was suitable for emergencies, but was not particularly comfortable, not for what he had in mind. It wasn’t beautiful, and it certainly wasn’t cozy, but it was big, open, and not Jack’s hole in the floor.

“Sooooo,” Jack said, smiling softly at him. “What else have you been up to?”

“Dinner,” he said, pulling out yet another foil wrapped package of fresh hot breads, and trying not to burn himself again. “Mrs. Surresh says you must eat everything as it will cure you of what ails you.” He turned briefly and looked at his lover leaning in the door. The smell was almost overwhelming, even in the large room, and he could tell by the look in Jack’s eyes that he had him. He put the tray down on the bed, before going to him. “Now, I am going to sort this tea she sent, and you settle down and tuck in.” 

When he returned with the tray containing the tea, Jack was settled on the bed. He had removed his shoes, and shirt, even his braces. The tray was in his lap and he had a stuffed bread of some kind in one hand, dipping it into an open container of sauce. Ianto smiled and went to join him. It was a start at least.

As he stood at the head of the stairs, he tried to pinpoint the source. Below autopsy there were two levels of archived technology, mostly larger stuff because of the lift that served them. Below that was the morgue. Taking the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could, he stopped to check the security on the doors. Both of them were secure. “Fuck” he thought to himself. “Why did I know it would have to be the morgue?” For a brief moment he considered waking Jack up, but only for a moment. Steeling his resolve, he went down the last flight of stairs, gun held at the ready, intent on taking this out on who or whatever he found at the bottom. He had not spent two days figuring out how to get Jack to rest just to have someone screw it up now. 

The large door to the morgue was open as Ianto stepped out from the stairwell, but the lights were still off, only the pale blue glow of the emergency lighting allowing him to see the figure kneeling by the open drawer, a drawer whose number was indelibly etched in his memory. Standing beside it looking much the way he had the last time he had seen him was Captain John Hart. 

Ianto took a moment to steady his gun and then clicked on the lights. “Looks like time I changed the locks…again. If you are planning to wake him up, I will shoot you dead where you stand.”

“Eye candy,” the man said with a smile as he turned around. He had the cover of his wrist strap open and one hand poised above it. “Now why would you want to lock me out?”

“Captain Hart, I suggest you keep your hands away from that thing. I meant what I said about shooting you.”

“Alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I wasn’t trying to wake him up, you know.”

“Why would I know that, why would I trust anything you said?” Ianto said, stepping forward through the open door. “After everything you have done to this city, to us, to Jack? You buried him!” The younger man could not keep the burning pain and anger out of his voice.

“I helped save Jack,” the older man said, with just a flash of something that might have been sadness, at least on someone else. “It wasn’t my idea, I didn’t have a choice.”

“There is always a choice.”

“Not always. I’m not here to let him out, I am here to end this.” Whatever he had expected out of the mouth of John Hart, this was not it. Confused and a little put off, Ianto lowered his gun a fraction and waited. “He can’t be fixed, and you know that Jack will never be able to kill him. So what happens, when he gets woken up, in a year, in a hundred, a thousand, once Jack is gone and no one remembers why he had to be kept here in the first place?”

“So you are going to what then, kill him?” Ianto said slowly. “Kill him?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it. But you can’t, you won’t because Jack would never forgive you.” John Hart took a step toward Ianto, and then another when the young man showed no sign of shooting him. “Me, what he and I had was a long time ago. I admit, when I first found Grey, he tricked me. Or more accurately I allowed myself to be tricked. I knew about Jack’s search, everyone did. It was an obsession with him, between missions he would search for leads, try to figure out where they had gone and what they had done with his little brother. I thought, if I was able to bring Grey back to him that Jack would take me back. I didn’t know, and by the time I did, there was nothing I could do.”

“You could have kept him away from Jack,” Ianto said, raising the gun back up just a little. “You could have kept him away from us all.” He didn’t want to believe the man, he didn’t want to have anything to do with him. But he couldn’t deny that he was right. Certainly Ianto had thought about it, especially in the last week when all he could think about was what was done to Jack and how to get him back. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t betray his lover again. Jack had forgiven him before, but he knew that he would never forgive him for this. Worse, he was pretty sure that John bleeding Hart knew too.

“Maybe, maybe not, but I can do something about this, here and now. You and yours aren’t the only ones he hurt.” Something about his tone of voice told Ianto there was more to that story, but he would never hear it, and he didn’t think he wanted to. Regardless it was probably one of the few honest things John Hart had ever said to him. He could almost feel sorry for the man, almost. 

Ianto thought about it. He knew he couldn’t allow this, but how could he not? John was right, at least this time. Jack would never allow Grey to be killed, but one day someone would wake him up. There was nothing he could do. Was it a betrayal if he did nothing? John was still standing there, the cover of his wrist strap open, waiting for something, for him to do something. Ianto lowered his gun. “I need to get back before Jack wakes up. I can’t be here.” He turned around and headed for the door. 

“You can’t, but I can. You can shoot me, or you can leave me to it. Or you could take me to Jack, I wouldn’t say no to sharing you with him, or him with you. I still have the cuffs.” Ianto shook his head and wondered if it was the Time Agency or if everyone in Jack’s century was like these two. If so it was a good thing they didn’t turn up often.

“That is as it may be, but it is none of your business. You shouldn’t be here, not now. That wrist strap of yours, it still travels in time doesn’t it?” He watched as the other man nodded. “Then maybe that’s where you should be, another time.” He hoped that the man got the clue as he started to leave. 

“You are as smart as you are beautiful, Eye candy, sure I can’t convince you to come with me? Could be fun.”

“No, thank you,” he said very slowly, to make sure that the other man understood. “Your kind of fun is a little too…chaotic for me.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, you seem to handle Jack well enough. who do you think taught me?"

“Somehow I don’t think you needed much teaching or encouragement.”

“Not much. Take good care of Jack, Ianto Jones. He loves you in a way he never did love me.” Ianto didn’t know how to respond so he just started to walk away. “I meant it you know, I do love him,” the captain’s voice was low and he almost didn’t hear. Turning back he looked at John Hart, disbelief apparent on his face. “as well as I am capable. Look after yourself, Eye candy, I am still hoping that you and Jack will take me up on that offer.” That was the John Hart he had come to expect. 

“Not likely. Don’t forget to put out the lights and lock up when you leave. I wouldn’t want to find anything on the security footage.”

 

“I was never here, at least not tonight.” He heard the slam of the drawer and as the lights went out, he almost thought he caught the hint of a golden glow. Content that John Hart had gotten the message, he climbed the stairs back to the the man he loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of those strange little stories predicated upon the question, what do we do with Grey now? Please, you know what to do.


End file.
